Into the Endless Night
by EnlightenedSkye
Summary: Fade to black on Twilight of the Apprentice, and fade in to a new reality. A ghost from Kanan's past returns. [MAJOR SPOILERS for the S2 finale. Rated for violence and action. Complete]
1. Chapter 1

A/N: So... _that happened_. I was very encouraged by the reaction to my first SWR fic, _Talk_ , that I couldn't resist having another go in this fandom. This was written in the hour and a half after the finale aired, so excuse the poor pacing. I just had to get out all of my headcanons while they are still fresh in my mind. I'm sure there's going to be at least half a dozen fics like this one; I can't wait to read them all!

Note that there are major spoilers for the season two finale here. The companion song to this little story is Lord Huron's _Meet Me in the Woods_. I played it about ten times while writing this, because I feel that it sets the mood. Enjoy, and let me know what you think.

 **Into the Endless Night**

 **Part One**

"Kanan, you need to lay down," she insisted once they were safely indoors. Her lover clung to her arm like a much older man, and she didn't like the feeling one bit.

"Commander Sato is going to want a full report," he mumbled, as if that was any excuse to neglect his health. "And we ought to order a full sensor sweep of Malachor, just in case-"

That train of thought was interrupted by Rex, who pushed past them and continued up the hall in his typical brisk manner. Zeb followed shortly thereafter, repeating his name once before falling silent and preparing for whatever the oncoming storm was to bring. The two of them disappeared into an open hatch, which closed abruptly.

It only took a few ticks for the wail to begin. It seemed to be the kind reserved for the mourning of a loved one, or comrade in arms, or a treasured friend. Hera felt chills snaking their way up her arms; as Zeb's accented tones joined the fray, mumbling what she assumed to be condolences, she thrust her shoulders back and charged ahead. "You need first aid," she said as soon as they had traversed several corridors on the way to the infirmary.

He opened his mouth as if to protest, but an astromech's treatment couldn't hold a candle to Hera's healing touch. That, and her fingers were digging so deeply into his side that he feared they would leave a mark if he refused.

The two of them finally reached the proper door; upon entering the access code, she was relieved to find it empty. Their makeshift base had yet to be properly staffed or retrofitted, and for once that was a good thing. It took a bit of struggle and more than a few words of coarse language to get Kanan atop the stretcher, but once that was complete, Hera turned to grab a handheld scanner, hoping to shed some light on the situation.

To her surprise, his hand shot out and grabbed her wrist, nearly pulling her down on top of him. She hummed softly under her breath as his fingers worked, ghosting over her lips and neck. He paused to feel the vibration of her vocal cords, eventually progressing to seize hold of her waist. There was nothing amorous in this gesture; no, it was more of a reassurance that she was still there with him, _there in one piece_.

"I suppose you don't want to talk about it," she asserted when he'd finally released her. Squatting down to her haunches, Hera began to rummage around in the drawer underneath him.

From below, she could hear the air catch in his throat, and the bed lurch as he shook his head violently. "You'll want the gel, not the patches."

Her hands froze over the package of bacta; even with his vision compromised, Kanan's hearing remained as sharp as ever. She had to admit, it was definitely a relief.

"I'm going to remove the bandages and apply fresh ones," she announced, and started a little to see the corners of his lips turn upwards into the ghost of a smile.

Nothing could have mentally prepared Hera for the sight of her lover's wounds. Yes, his eyes were open, but the irises were clouded over with blood and tissue. The damage itself was a jagged gash that ran between the temples, a little crooked but at least a centimeter deep. It was a wonder he hadn't bled out before making it back to base.

She swallowed the emotion building in her chest and set to her work, determined to eliminate every last trace of dirt and debris. Kanan seemed to enter a somewhat meditative state; the only indication he was in pain was the soft hiss of breath coming from between his teeth as the bacta made contact with his brow.

After a moment of silence, she reached for her belt and removed a handheld beacon, which she engaged and held in the jedi's peripheral vision. The whites of his eyes appeared almost translucent, with tinges of pink encroaching at the lids. Could it be that only the day before she'd gazed into his eyes as he swore to her that they would _see_ each other again, come what may?

The irony hit her like a punch to the gut. Quietly, she began to move the beacon from side to side, praying for some response from him. Just the barest twitch of an eyelash would have satisfied her, but if the powers that be were entertaining requests, they showed no sign of yield.

"Stop, love," he rasped, the emotion in his voice palpable. It occurred to her that he'd probably heard her activate the switch, and it disappeared as swiftly as it had come out. "This isn't permanent. And even if it was, it doesn't change our situation."

But it did. Oh, by the heavens, _it did._ He would have to relearn how to do everything without the aid of sight, even if a sensitivity to the force did help things along. Ahsoka was missing or hurt or even worse, and they couldn't do a thing about it from Atollon.

Whether he heard or sensed her tears beginning to fall was a mystery, but in the next moment Hera felt herself seized by arms and drawn forward. The pair exchanged a clumsy, breathless kiss, desperate in its intensity and reassurance. His lips caught the tears streaming down her cheeks and she gratefully leaned into his touch, careful not to make contact with his exposed wounds.

True to habit, they separated at the sound of boot steps coming down the corridor, ready to act at a moment's notice. The noise faded soon thereafter, and Hera was reduced to undignified hiccups as she fought to regain her composure. As she carefully wound a new strip of bandages about Kanan's temples, he began to speak on all he had seen.

He told her about how three inquisitors had been slain by a mysterious stranger later identified as the sinister Maul. He told her how he'd warned Ezra once, twice, _a thousand times_ , how he couldn't be trusted. How he'd gone ahead and scaled the side of the pyramid, activating a device that had the potential to lay waste to all of humanity. He went on to relay how he'd hidden his face with the mask of a temple guard, and how Darth Vader had appeared atop his TIE fighter. How Ahsoka had sworn not to leave him and basically signed her own death certificate, staying on the platform as the walls of the temple came crashing down around them. And when all of that was out in the open, he explained how he'd held his padawan as he wept, all the while feeling the sith holocron jabbing at his ribs.

"I'm losing him, Hera," he lamented, sitting up with her assistance. "You should have seen how he took to Maul without question. All of that training, and they were right. I couldn't help him...I couldn't protect him from any of it!"

She thought that such was the nature of youth entrusted with power unbecoming of their experience, but said nothing. Ezra was probably off with Sabine somewhere, telling her nothing of significance but just enough to terrify her at the same time. And they would have to deal with that soon enough, for Kanan had long centered his efforts on the boy, as he should. He was tremendously powerful from what she had seen, and would bring clout to whatever side he represented. But this was more than just a ploy for power; she truly cared for Ezra as a valued member of her crew. She'd even irrationally come to think of him like a son, and accordingly took personal responsibility for his well-being.

"You might be losing his trust, but that only means that you must win it back," Hera muttered into his collar, rubbing small circles into his back. "We knew this would be a challenge when we first welcomed him aboard, and nothing has changed, even if the stakes are higher."

He took this in for a moment, then nodded slowly. It wouldn't do to hide from the inevitable and commiserate in private; there was an extensive list of things Kanan would have to accomplish before he could achieve peace of mind.

 _One_. Inform Commander Sato that he had an open position for fleet adviser, even if just for the time being.

 _Two_. Commence the search for his friend.

 _Three_. See to the immediate welfare of his crew, not excluding his wayward padawan.

 _Four_. Do whatever it took to destroy that sith holocron, for once it was gone, the oppressive cloud of darkness over their little world would begin to dissipate. He might even-

"You should go," she encouraged, helping him stand. Her words were heavy with emotion, and he felt the burden she carried as if it was his own.

Before he stepped out into the threshold, determined to find his way to the control center by himself, Kanan reached for her hand. Hera took it and raised it to her lips, working her way across his bruised and bloodied knuckles. He didn't have to see his surroundings to know that her lekku were crossed at the ends, her back slightly hunched with concentration. Certainly, after all this time, he knew her body like his own.

It was almost as if she was imparting to him some of her strength to get through the briefing ahead and return to her. Kanan didn't have to ask to know that she would leave the light on.

Where she lacked mental fortitude, he was there to give her the barest of pushes in the right direction. Where he lacked reason, she knew the way. Such was the way it had been since their first mission, and such was how it always would be.

"Thank you for coming back to me," she said.

The door came open and he stepped carefully into the corridor; the background noise of the base seemed louder than when he'd entered, threatening to drown out his thoughts and setting his heart to pound out of time.

"Thank you for waiting," he answered, and the hatch slid closed.

Hera stood in the midst of the infirmary for several moments, her brow furrowed in contemplation. Then she swiftly exited the room and turned in the direction they'd come, her mind already formulating her actions several steps ahead.

She foresaw the next few days as the start of a path into a darkened wood, foreboding and all-consuming. But there were demons at her heels and either side, so she only cared to press forward into unfamiliar territory. Hera had spent her entire life running from one thing or another; surely a round of pursuit wouldn't be unwelcome.

The point of no return was already far behind them.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Wow, I was definitely not expecting that much awesome feedback! Thank you to everyone that's favorited, followed, and commented. I've decided there's going to be at least three parts to this little collection of oneshots, and then I'll leave it open ended just in case the mood strikes between now and the season three premiere.

Not explicitly Sabezra, but it's there if you squint. Enjoy!

 **Into The Endless Night**

 **Part Two**

She finds him at the edge of the perimeter, watching the horizon by rapidly dwindling light. Out beyond the beacons, the massive krykna scuttle back and forth in their perpetual hunt for prey.

Even though she knew they were in little to no danger, over the course of the past few days Sabine had grown used to carrying her blaster at her hip wherever she went. Perhaps it was the fact that there were now snipers posted at all hours atop the rocks, their guns aimed at the sky. Or maybe it was because a valued member of their crew had lost a crucial resource in battle and seeing him struggle every day to regain his balance shook her to the core, for it was now a very real possibility that something like that could happen to her.

It had just been a matter of time before something tragic befell the ones she held most dear; though she told no one, Sabine was often plagued by hellish nightmares of just that. Most of the time she's running, but everything around her seems to be in slow motion, and she arrives just in time to see the light to drain out of their eyes. It happened twice in her days as a bounty hunter, and once in the family enclave she'd once called home. The odds were just too high to risk, and that was why she checked on her friend at least twice daily, no matter what kind of state he appeared to be in.

Suddenly Ezra bowed his head and reached forward. A krykna far out on the dunes instantly ceased its movement, its bulbous collection of eyes swiveling in his direction. It began a solemn procession towards him, and the fingers of his hand began to tighten ever so slightly.

Sabine took a step backward, trapping a tumbleweed under her boot. He was on his feet in a second, reaching for his belt to retrieve a device that most certainly wasn't there anymore. She resisted the urge to retrieve her own weapon, holding her ground with her arms crossed at the chest.

"I thought you'd be out here," she said nonchalantly. "Some of the pilots and I are planning on going for a run once the suns set. Will you be joining us?"

Even though she already knew what his answer would be, she had to ask. There had once been a time where she and Ezra would have fun, capturing loth-cats in empty sacks and laughing over holovid transmissions. But all this was in the not so distant past, along with whatever had stolen her companion's lust for life.

"I'm tired," he replied, his excuse blatantly transparent as a falsehood. Sabine knew he spent most of the day in his room, mooning over that blasted holocron, sleeping, or whatever it was brooding force-sensitives did in their spare time. The fleet as a whole was still licking its wounds from various conflicts, not including their ill-fated mission to Malachor. That, and his master wasn't exactly in the best shape for traipsing across the galaxy in search of reinforcements.

She shrugged and went to stand beside him; the creature had long since scuttled off, leaving them alone. The comm link strapped to her armor warbled with an incoming transmission, and against her better judgment Sabine switched it off and sat down in the dust, as if daring Ezra to join her.

He soon did, pulling his knees up to his chin and resuming his scrutiny of the horizon. The padawan fairly vibrated with tension. It was starting to set her on edge.

"Ezra, we're friends, right?" She knew it was a naive question-brothers in arms might be more accurate, or acquaintances with a common goal-but she had to check before she dared to broach what was really on her mind.

The teen scoffed slightly and looked away. Although she knew he probably didn't mean anything by it, Sabine felt slightly offended. When he did speak, it was with so much intonation that she got the idea he hadn't given it very much thought. "Sure. _Friends._ "

What happened to the mostly considerate young man she met on Lothal, the one who had clumsily tried to flirt with her before acquiescing to a routine of working together? She reached forward on an impulse, stopping short of seizing his hand and settling for giving his shoulder a sound whack.

He barely flinched, instead pinning her under his astringent gaze. She stared right back, undaunted. "What's been happening to you? Your master is up for training, and you avoid him at all costs. We invited you to eat with us, and you prefer to stay out here listening to those stupid creatures scurry back and forth. I know it must have something to do with what happened on Malachor-I've read all the reports-but no one ever talks about how _you're_ doing. And I keep telling myself to be patient, that you'll open up when you're ready, but I just can't wait around for that day. Ezra, it's like I don't even _know_ you anymore!"

Sighing and laying back, he rested his head against his crossed arms. It is in that moment he seemed tremendously weary of matters around him and within him. Just how many nights like this one had he laid out in the long grasses of his home world, waiting for the stars to come out just so he could dream of escaping from all of it? Suddenly, Sabine realized she might not know him very much at all.

"You weren't there," he exclaimed. "You have no idea what it was like! If I hadn't trusted Maul, Kanan wouldn't be blinded and Ahsoka would be waiting for us back at base. Do you think I like seeing Hera and Rex so sad?"

 _Did he?_ Did he see this as some sort of divine revenge passed down from the powers that be for all the danger he'd been put into? No, no, Ezra wasn't that heartless. She couldn't count how many times he'd insisted Malachor was a good option for them, that the knowledge they'd uncover to defeat the sith would be invaluable. No matter how much he danced around the subject now, Sabine knew his motives were pure and head mostly clear.

At least, she had to _hope_ so.

After a moment of consideration, she responded, "You're right. I wasn't there, but it seems like you still are."

He stiffens as she lays beside him, at a respectable distance but still too close for his comfort. "What do you mean by that?"

"You can't be so focused on the past; it only brings you pain," Sabine urged, and privately thought she should start following her own advice. "Everyone's counting on each other to remain sharp for our next mission, and we can't let them down."

Her choice of pronouns was not lost on him. The two of them remained silent for quite some time; just as the moons were beginning to tease their appearance on the horizon, they heard the distant sound of the changing of the guard.

"It's fine, you don't have to say I'm right," she added with an air of false vanity, hoping to elicit a smile from him.

The padawan smirked. "Hey, I was just enjoying the sunset."

She sighed and rolled over to face him, her bent elbow supporting her head. "Ezra Bridger, you are insufferable."

"Maybe I am," he acquiesced quietly, sweeping his hands out before him. Because of the lack of electric lights and sparse atmosphere, Atollon was renowned for its spectacular nightly tapestry of stars, at least among the rebel cells. "Haven't we been there?"

"Which one?" She asked, for they had set foot on several dozen worlds in the Outer Rim in their travels.

Ezra squinted and gently tapped his finger as he counted. "Second moon, sixth to the right."

By now, everyone was probably concerned that she'd neglected to return from checking on their resident troublemaker, but right now she didn't particularly care. There was something familiar about the way it pulsed orange and yellow, as if she had studied it in detail before. Then she remembered, for one of the corridors in the _Ghost_ now boasted exquisite renderings of each of the Specters' home worlds. "That's Ryloth," she concluded. "So not yet, but if Hera has anything to say about it, we definitely will. She was telling me the other day that in the Rhovarian jungle there are trees that grow hundreds of meters tall."

That wasn't exactly true; instead, Sabine had been eavesdropping as their pilot had assisted her partner with the morning meal. The twi'lek had taken to describing increasingly visual memories from her childhood, as if by some miracle this would cause Kanan to regain his sight.

"I can see you climbing the tallest one and painting it with a phoenix," Ezra encouraged, auspiciously not focused on his own misfortunes for the moment.

She laughed and agreed. "One day."

That sentiment was repeated, and he added, "We'll have plenty of time."

In that moment, she would have sworn that a flash of crimson passed across his eyes, giving her friend an eerily menacing appearance.

But perhaps she could have been mistaken.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Healing continues, slowly but surely, with a few road blocks along the way. I guess you can say this is rock bottom for Ezra. We must go forward before we can go backward, so next chapter will be Ahsoka-centric.

Experimenting with a change in verb tense. Be warned that there is some action violence in this chapter that may be distressing. Thanks for your continued support!

 **Into the Endless Night**

 **Part Three**

It's another restless night for Sabine. She lays on her back studying the ceiling, watching out of the corner of her eye as the hours tick by on her chronometer. It's been close to four hours since she bid her companions a fond goodnight and retired to the _Ghost_ ; there's rooms ready for all of them on base, but she never really feels at home unless she is surrounded by art of her own creation.

Even when she closes her eyes to chase elusive slumber, the bright tones of some of the more fluorescent shades of paint reach her. There's even a crudely drawn caricature of their crew on the underside of the unused top bunk. Only their pilot is smiling; Kanan has his arms crossed as he whispers conspiratorially with Zeb. She and Ezra sit cross-legged nearby, treating each other to comically over-the-top expressions. Chopper wields a blaster and appears to be caught in the motion of swinging it around, true to his haphazardly ambivalent nature.

It's been a reasonably good week for the rebel cell on Atollon. Their resident Jedi was currently off world preparing to receive a pair of cybernetic ocular implants. They'd had to cash in more than a few favors to get a surgeon who was sympathetic to their cause to even enter the system, let alone agree to operate on one of their cruisers. But eventually the arrangements had been made and Kanan had departed at the appointed time, swearing to his family that he would wait until he was once again in their presence to remove the bandages.

Sabine had almost forgotten what he looked like without them. The one time she'd walked in on Hera changing his dressings, the sight of the wide band of charred flesh between his temples coupled with the thick notch of skin carved out of his nose nearly caused her to vomit right then and there. It was the most severe battle injury she'd ever seen someone survive. _How in the heavens did he go about pretending everything was fine?_

Perhaps that was because _it was._ Ezra had finally acquiesced to see him, even if their training was now mostly composed of long bouts of meditation and passionate conversation. Every week or so the two of them were paraded in front of Kanan, who would gently take stock of their facial features with his hands, assuring them this was to make sure he didn't miss them growing older. They would sit in the common room and discuss the days they'd had, the weather, and the best way to keep those pesky dokma creatures from invading every square inch of their base. In fact, anything but tactics was up for discussion. Anything to keep their minds off what had happened just a few short months ago.

From across the hall comes the tell-tale sound of the hatch to Ezra's door opening. When her nightmares don't keep her up at night, his pacing does, only stopping for an hour or so while the padawan sleeps fitfully. He's taken to sneaking off base to see to his own thoughts, and because everyone seems to be worried about him, not to mention their cabins were right across from one another, Sabine accepts her self-inflicted role of _Bridger-Wrangler._

There had been brief flashes of hope in their encounters over the past few weeks, as if, by some miracle, he might be starting to return to his old self. The rest of the crew could discuss it in private all they wanted, but the truth was that Ezra blamed himself entirely for what happened on Malachor. If one lapse of judgment could cause one mentor to be blinded and another to be presumed dead, what other damage could he do to their cause? And even though Ahsoka had eventually been found alive and Kanan's situation was starting to look a whole lot brighter, she knew that he carried that burden wherever he went.

That sith holocron he kept hidden away in his room probably had something to do with it. Such negativity was unbecoming of healing, but Kanan and Ahsoka were hesitant to press the issue. They liked to think he would decide to get rid of it on his own, but Sabine knew better. And that was why she found herself clambering out of bed in the middle of the night to intercept her friend before he did something he would later regret.

After extricating her limbs from the tangle of blankets, Sabine briefly entertains the notion of carrying her weapon into the fray. Most nights, all she had to do was keep him company over a mug of hot caf, but sometimes his walks take him dangerously far away from her watchful eye, whereupon he would not return until midday. And that worries her to no end.

She has a bad feeling about this, and soon discovers why. Ezra stands with his back to her, holding his holocron up to the light. It glimmers faintly, as if it had only recently been engaged. He is fully dressed and carrying a pack over his shoulder.

"Whatever you're about to say, I don't want to hear it. I'm taking the _Phantom_ ," he asserts, and begins making tracks to the ladder at the rear of the ship.

Sabine found that she had little time to act. "Give me that holocron, Ezra." And she prays that her voice carries enough firmness to suggest that, _no_ , he is most definitely _not_ leaving tonight.

Something in her tone gives him pause and he turns in profile. The dark circles underneath his eyes betray his restlessness, but he is adamant that no one would stand between him and his goal to get as far away from the people he'd hurt as possible. "Don't try me," he warns.

Of course this now meant she _had to,_ coming to stand between him and the exit. "You can't do this, not after all the progress we've-"

"Get out of my way," he ground out, advancing toward her. Sabine's immediate instinct was to try and subdue him, but she finds herself making a grab for the holocron. Whatever has been holding Ezra back snaps in that moment and he shoves her so roughly that she nearly tumbles to the ground. He was now steps away from escape, and she just couldn't risk it. The Mandalorian girl charges at his retreating back.

Her attempt to wrestle him to the ground is quickly parried with a strength she never knew he possessed; as her grasp lands on his outstretched arm, he wrenches it away, causing the two of them to collapse onto the deck plating.

While she is hissing the pain away through her teeth, Sabine mentally regroups and prepares to gain the upper hand. In one swift move, she is astride his chest, having pinned his hands to the ground. Whatever malevolent spell he's been under is broken for one instant. Ezra gazes up at her with open-mouthed shock, as if he isn't quite sure how they'd gotten in this particular position. Upon later consideration, she might have deemed it naive to think he would have surrendered so easy.

The corners of his mouth turn up in a poor facsimile of a smile. A brief flash of gold dashes across his pupils before disappearing again. All of this happens in the fraction of a second, for the next moment Sabine is thrown backwards several feet against an open access panel. The pain is immediate and all-consuming. She tastes blood and realizes she's bitten her tongue following the shock of the impact. Inhaling sharply, she shrieks, "Hera! Zeb!"

Their pilot emerges within seconds from her room. Squinting into the bright light of the corridor, her guise morphs from confusion to fear to desperation. The Lasat is the next to appear; he grabs his bow rifle from the wall before seeing to the verbal alarm, but immediately casts it aside as he takes in the scene before him. Immediately Ezra seems to realize where he is and what he has only just done. He manages to scramble up a few rungs of the ladder before the former honor guard captain seizes the collar of his shirt and throws him roughly to the deck.

The apprentice rolls over to his stomach and claws for his freedom as Hera all but jumps on top of him, immobilizing him.

His face upturns to where Sabine still leans against the wall, a little shocked by what she's just witnessed. Observing his friend with a trail of blood emerging from her lips, all dams seem to burst. He's weeping with the cause of a thousand adversities, the color swiftly returning to his face in blotches. Unconsciously, she reaches for him, the pain in her side nearly overwhelming. She gasps and falls backward once more, and this only intensifies his sobs.

The words she can make out are few and far between: "My fault...wouldn't be blind...all this trouble...he's expecting me to...I can't _believe_ I hurt…"

The young man curls into the fetal position, and Hera quietly gathers him into her arms as the howls continue. After a minute or so she solemnly pries the holocron from one hand and gives it to Zeb, who has turned away from the emotional display.

"Find Rex and get the speeder. Take this as far away from here as possible. I don't care what you have to do to destroy it, just _get it done_. I'll tend to these two," she orders, and he ducks away to comply. "Oh, and be sure to open the comm link to Kanan."

Meanwhile Sabine has stumbled to her feet, clutching her flank where she is sure at least one of her ribs has been fractured. Ezra's cries reach a new level of anguish, ricocheting off the walls of the narrow hallway and causing chills to crawl up her spine. Even in their most harrowing missions, she's never sustained any injuries that required any serious medical attention.

Just before the external hatch closes, Hera adds, "Let him know it happened again."


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Before I forget, I'd like to publicly thank user _Techfish_ for giving me plenty of things to think about moving forward with this series. They set something in motion that I didn't think would come to pass, and you'll see what this is in the next installment.

I wanted to do a bit with the holy trinity of SWR ladies-that would be Sabine, Hera, and Ahsoka. And to think that a season ago I would have had Maketh in Ahsoka's place...awkward. (Come to think of it, I still have unresolved feelings about that. Maybe that's next.)

Forgive my poor memory of _The Clone Wars_. It's been a while. Extrapolating from what we already know, I took some creative liberties with the nature of montrals. Next time Kanan comes home. Enjoy everyone!

 **Into the Endless Night**

 **Part Four**

Ahsoka was adrift in time and space without anything to tether her to reality. She wasn't sure if hours or days had passed since she lost consciousness, or if she would ever regain it. She felt awash in the force, which she had always pictured as an endless ocean of placid tides. Meditation was the closest sensation she knew to death, so she ignored her body's call to awaken and stayed there in comfort. She experienced several decades of dreams in this mindspace, full of faces and voices whose matches had long since crossed over to the other side. And when the pain at last overcame her mental barriers, she reluctantly gave in and sent her soul skyward into the realm of the living.

The togruta had indeed fought her former master as the walls of the temple continued to collapse around them. Anakin's blind rage rolled off of him in waves, but she felt comforted knowing it was not directed at her. Little could be done to salvage a deep-seated hatred of one's fate, and she could have little to do with that. For a while they were evenly matched. And then he began to speak.

"If you had stayed, perhaps you would understand," he plied, and Ahsoka could almost hear his natural voice behind his mask.

But deep within him he had to know this was simply not true. Whatever had happened after she left the Order to transform her master into the horrendous creature that now stood before her was entirely on his shoulders. If she dared to speak her mind, she would have vocalized that _if he had bothered to support her to begin with, maybe it wouldn't have had to come to that._

Soon she grew even more daring in her attacks, forcing Vader to go on the defensive. It felt infernally hot under the dome of the cavern, convection stirring up little licks of flame through the cracks in the rocks. It bit through the fabric of her shoes, so Ahsoka stepped lightly. She could almost hear herself being lead through form exercises as a youngling: _One, two, three. One, two, three…_

"You were always impulsive. Foolish," Anakin ground out, the tip of his saber just barely nicking her cheek. She responded by singeing the inside of his forearm with a gash several centimeters wide.

 _As if he wasn't?_

By now, Kanan and Ezra were probably in the upper atmosphere, making speedy progress towards Atollon. She thought fondly of the abandoned knight, and even after all he'd done, his headstrong padawan. There was no room for anger anymore. Only the movement of her lightsaber and the encroaching glow of Anakin's golden eyes…

Their blades met at an imposing tricornered cross and each bore down. "While you've been away chasing your personal aspirations, the game has changed," he said, breaking free and swinging for the lower half of her body.

So he _did_ remember her weaknesses from training. So be it. He was fast, but she would have to be more so. Ahsoka launched into a vertical jump, tucking her legs underneath her for the smallest fraction of a second before she was at it again. "Not the game, just the players," she responded calmly, without a hint of tension in her voice.

His hand rose as if on a hinge, preparing to choke her into oblivion. She mirrored his pose and extended her fingers, and suddenly he is skidding backward across the ground through several bursts of flame. And though she'd spent years trying to tame her pride so as not to wind up on the opposite side of the coin, Ahsoka sunk to her haunches and offered her sabers, mimicking a pose she'd adopted during a particularly one-sided battle with the Inquisitors.

There was no more room for talking, only the continuation of the perpetual battle between light and dark. She isn't sure how Anakin gains the upper hand, but he soon does after a falling rock briefly traps her leg underneath it, after which she is staggering around the makeshift arena like a fighter close to collapse. The tips of several fingers are severed before she is brought down to her knees, a brilliantly red saber held tantalizingly close to her neck.

So this was how it ends. Closing her eyes, she appeared to be making peace with her maker and the force; after a moment of silence, she opened them to find Vader gone. Somewhat triumphantly, she exhaled.

She knew that her skyguy wouldn't have been able to follow through with it.

After hobbling through several corridors, Ahsoka finds herself on a familiar platform. Despite her best efforts to ignore the pain, it overwhelmed her senses and she yielded to the ever-so-tempting oblivion.

When she comes to, it is in complete darkness. She is immediately aware that something is missing, something that brings more pain than any of her other injuries combined. Reaching out with the hand that isn't tangled halfway into her shirt to staunch the bleeding, Ahsoka confirmed that the top half of her left montral is absolutely gone. Fleetingly, she wondered how she could have missed something like that in the heat of the moment. It is a small comfort knowing that Anakin escaped with dozens of moderately serious cuts and abrasions all over his body, not to mention a substantial piece of his mask missing.

It must have come off pretty easily, as if one was slicing into a fruit. _Snips_ , _snips_ , the more cruel part of her brain whispered, and she silenced it. Taking stock of her other injuries, it seemed that three fingertips on one hand are beyond repair, and her ankle is at the very least sprained badly. She tore long strips from her skirt and used them to wrap the affected areas. When she stood, one hand clenched to the side, Ahsoka soon remembered why exactly her people had evolved lekku to begin with. Her balance is severely disrupted and she shifts to lean against the wall, trying to catch her breath.

Like in so many other times of trouble, a certain mantra comes to the forefront. And because she knew she was alone, she recited it aloud, her words the only discernible sound across an otherwise hellish landscape.

"There is no emotion, there is peace," she recounted, struggling to even out her tone. _Yes, that was what she needed now._

"There is no ignorance, there is knowledge." That would be pertinent to their situation, as their quest for the latter had gone dangerously awry.

Something on the platform caught her eye. Ahsoka recognized it as the fragments of Ezra's lightsaber and slowly made her way over to it, stowing the wayward kyber crystal in her belt.

Farther away, there is a small pool of reddish blood that couldn't have been her own. Briefly she thought about the newly blind knight making peace with his fate on Atollon, before catching a glimpse of the discarded mask of a fallen Inquisitor. She begins to speak faster and faster as she made her way down the exterior walls of the temple, soon finding herself standing before the entrance. Tellingly, the rock that had once blocked it was now ajar from its original position.

At last, when she realized that she was without a comm link and would have to wait for hope to come to her, she returns to her most cherished line of the mantra. Sitting cross-legged on the now frigid ground, Ahsoka repeated, "There is no chaos, there is harmony."

She reaches out to Kanan through the force. She lets him know she is alive. And she waits.

-0-

She knew something was awry before anyone told her. When Rex and Zeb come to her room on their way out, nearly crashing through the door in their urgency, she is already dressed. They exchange few words, though her oldest and dearest friend does give her one of his trademark looks as he passes by. She knew the one. It said _we've gotten ourselves into it, so we'll have to get ourselves out of it. We'll be alright._

Sabine lets her aboard, her lower abdomen secured by a medical brace. Peering out from under choppy bangs and barefoot, the girl looks utterly distressed. For once, Ahsoka doesn't deny the two of them more physical comforts and brings the Mandalorian to her, wrapping the warrior in a tight embrace.

She makes a little noise of surprise but returns the hug, knowing they both need it. Sabine's grown to respect the fleet adviser like an older sister, or a treasured aunt. When they discuss delicate issues such as this, it's as if all of her tension is being drawn out of her body, replaced with Ahsoka's own brand of serenity.

"Go and lay down," the togruta suggests, and she obeys. Together they walk as far as her room. Sabine departs a little reluctantly, but she's drowsy with medication and it will be her first proper sleep in days. Before the door closes between them, she offers one last pointed look towards Ezra's quarters.

Entering quietly, Ahsoka is not surprised to find Hera crouched down by the boy's bunk, gently smoothing his hair as he dozes fitfully. The women nod toward one another and she joins her with some difficulty on the floor.

"This is the third time this has happened," the pilot says under her breath, as if she didn't already know that.

Their voices are sufficiently low enough so as not to wake the boy, but Ahsoka still brings her head close enough to hers so their words barely have to be whispered to be heard. "But it's the first time he's assaulted a crew member," she reminds her companion.

How Hera wants to stay away from _that word_ , but she knows that that was _exactly_ what had happened here. She certainly doesn't blame her friend or her lover for not treating the boy more severely, especially because the two of them were trying to heal on their own.

By now Zeb and Rex are en route to the very fringes of their territory, completing something that should have been done months ago. Out of the corner of her eye, she spots the bare frame of the young man's new blaster, still optimistically oblong with an opening on either end. Before she can stop herself, she asks, "Do you have it?"

 _Of course she does._ Ahsoka goes nowhere without the apprentice's crystal, for safe keeping more than anything else. "He's not ready," she asserts, and deep down Hera knows she is right.

"That's not what I asked."

Ezra shifts in his sleep and the two women freeze, waiting until he settles to continue their conversation. "He needs to grow up first." It's such a simple solution to a complicated issue.

"You almost died because of his indifference," Hera agrees, and both know that isn't the right word to describe what happened on Malachor.

Ahsoka's eyes drift down to her severed fingertips, which are just beginning to scar over. Ever since the rebel convoy sent to retrieve her had detected her on their sensors a few days after the incident, she'd practiced balancing herself without the proper anatomy on her head, and had managed with the added encumbrance of a restricting brace. She might have starved to death on that planet if not for the meditative trance she'd placed herself under, but that was in the distant past. "I'm not angry about that."

... _Anymore_ , she wanted to add. But the feeling had been short-lived, anyway.

"Neither is Kanan," the twi'lek admitted, and resumed her strokes of the boy's brow. "Do you think he will ever...you know…"

Their eyes meet and hold contact. Ahsoka replies, "This is bigger than any of us can comprehend."

Hera's incredulous look meant that she thought she was once again dodging the question, so she assured, "No one said this would be easy. But I know there is the light in him, because I have seen it so often that I can ignore this present darkness."

She nods and looks away. "Kanan will be back today. We ought to discuss it with him."

"I'm sure he's thought about it as much as we have. May I?" Ahsoka has risen to her haunches and joined her at her self-appointed post. After one long moment, Hera allows her to take up the stroking. At first it looks sufficiently awkward, but a warm smile soon spreads across her face and Ezra sub-consciously leans into her hand.

"I'll get the caf," she says before exiting, knowing the two of them will be awake most of the night.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Alright, you all have persuaded me. This will actually be a full length story, but I'm going to spare the filler and focus on delivering good fluff, good plot twists, and good action, in that order. Thanks to all the reviewers and new followers! You've really made me feel welcome.

I know I'm stretching canon to the limit right now but I'm asking you all to trust me. It will all be explained in due time.

Next time: Kanan tells a story, and he and Ezra talk. The major conflict is set in motion.

 **Into the Endless Night**

 **Part Five**

The last thing he remembered was being wheeled down a long hallway accompanied by a woman who had introduced herself as his surgeon. Of course, he had no way of knowing if she presented herself in a trustworthy manner, but her assistants were surely moving fast. He was administered something in a syringe, and a clear, high voice began counting down slowly from one hundred, urging him to focus on the words. Eventually they began to blur together and he lapsed into unconsciousness, spending several hours in this way.

His first forays into dreamland are mostly pleasant. Carousing with Zeb in a nameless bar, painting with Sabine and pretending not to be shocked when her creation turns out much better than his, waking up with a very warm twi'lek in his arms. He even sees and hears Depa's voice encouraging him to _sit still, my apprentice, sit still and pay attention_.

They are standing in a desolate wasteland and she is not a day older than when he saw her last, crying out for him to flee the battle on Kaller. And though he is very much an adult in this dream, he sinks to his knees and allows her to place a hand atop his head. To his surprise, the Chalactan then lifts his chin, forcing him to look at her. They share a smile, like two people in on a private joke. And even though she doesn't need to say anything, his master says, "You have made me proud, Caleb."

If he were awake, Kanan was sure he would weep for joy. But instead all he feels is a faint tingling in his limbs. It's the sensation he always feels right before his dreams end. Grabbing desperately at her hand, he asks, "Master, what do I do for my apprentice? He's impulsive and rebellious. He brings me nothing but trouble."

"Like you once did for me," she interrupts with a laugh, squeezing back. She appears to consider this for a second, opens her mouth, and promptly coughs a great deal of blood into his face.

It happens so fast that he barely sees the flash of the saber. Depa clutches at the growing red bloom on her chest and falls forward, revealing a familiar face.

Just like before, there is nothing more to say. Ezra pulls the weapon from his unwitting prey and charges at him. The end is swift and relatively painless, just as he always imagined it would be.

Kanan awoke with a start to a dull, throbbing pain behind his eyes and an awful crick in his neck. His heart is beating so fast that he fears it will burst from his chest. When he makes an attempt to sit up and investigate his surroundings, someone's hands are there to push him back down.

"Perfect timing," a familiar feminine voice quips.

All is dark. For a fleeting moment he assumes the operation was a failure, and sets to accept his fate. But then: "Well, Mr. Jarrus, how's about we remove these bandages so you can take a look?"

When he speaks, his voice sounds hoarse and disused. "How long, doctor?"

She makes a thoughtful noise in the back of her throat. "You've been under for approximately twelve hours." And then her hands are making slow work of the gauze wrapped across his face. "I'm confident you'll be pleased with the results."

The sensation of light after four months of darkness is almost unbearable, even from behind closed eyelids. At his grimace, she says, "Take it easy. I'm going to step out. In the meantime, there's someone here to see you."

The physician is gone within seconds, the savior he never sees face to face or even properly thanks. There's two voices conferring outside the room, and then muffled boot steps approach the bedside. All at once, her presence sweeps him off his feet like the tide.

Her name escapes his lips, and sure enough he soon feels her small, sure hands work their way from his chest to his face. Sniffles are the only indication that she's been crying; for his sake, Kanan hoped they were tears of happiness. They kiss once, twice, several times, each more passionate than the last.

When at last they break apart, he jokes, "Whatever happened to waiting for me to come to you?"

"You know me better than that," she chastises. Then, guiding his hands to her waist: "Are you ready?"

Truth be told, he wasn't sure. He'd spent hours recounting every last detail of his physical world, and now wondered if these memories would pale in comparison to the real thing. Ointment and bacta had dried around his lashes, making a simple task laborious. But at last he did open his eyes and beheld his lover's captivating face, jaw clenched and lips trembling in anticipation.

Almost immediately his forehead dropped into his hands and he began to shake; had his lacrimal glands already accepted his implants, he might have even wept to know that one of the constants in his ever-changing universe was just how he'd left her, standing off the _Phantom_ 's bow with that same expression adorning her features.

"Is something wrong, love?" Hera beseeched him, her tones markedly more strained than usual.

He suddenly returns to the matter at hand, caressing her cheeks and whispering, "It's just _not possible_."

The twi'lek stiffens with the urge to locate the doctor, at the same time wanting to relax into his embrace. "You _can_ see me," she said, and it's almost a dare for him to disagree with her.

"Yes, yes, of course. It's just…" Kanan's gaze flickered to the fluorescent lights overhead, then back down to the inadvertent halo they create about her shoulders and lekku. "Hera, you're even more beautiful than the last time I saw you."

Heart swelling with emotion, she kissed him once more, this time across the newly repaired bridge of his nose. Their foreheads touch, eyes only inches apart. She thinks she can see into the inner workings of the cybernetic, right down to the tiny gears moving to constrict his pupils. And then the little lines return at the corners of his lids, and she is reminded of the tremendous blessing they've been granted.

"What color are they?" He found himself asking, although it didn't matter on the grand scale of things. He'd been born with piercing blue eyes that he thought were unbecoming of his darker skin and dusky hair, but Hera had often insisted how alluring they were, like staring into the depths of a crystal lagoon teeming with life.

Knowing that the query came out of curiosity and not vanity, she leaned in once again and set to describing them the best she could. "Black as night between the stars. The scleras are a touch close to silver, but Dr. Billaba told me she had to smuggle a pair out of her practice and had to make sure it wouldn't be noticed, so than can be forgiven."

His fingers freeze over the mirror on the nightstand. "What did you say, Hera?"

"I said the whites of your eyes are almost silver. It's lovely," she insisted, a little confused.

He shook his head violently, ignoring the bite of salve still left under his lids. "No, before that. What was the doctor's name?"

Smirking incredulously, she pleaded, "Don't tell me you didn't recognize the accent."

To be fair, the only time he'd heard payed attention to her speaking outright was as he was being wheeled to the operating room, _so no_ , he hadn't been thinking about it. Hera continued, "She introduced herself as Saneetra Billaba just a moment ago, going on about what a pleasant conversation she had with you, about old times and such."

The skeptical look she was dealt was enough for her to discern that this had not been the case. Had there had been such an exchange, Kanan was sure it would be _anything_ but enjoyable. Secondly, how had his master's niece been able to operate on him without so much as a blip on his mental radar?

"She might not have known who you were," Hera argued, offering a hand in his attempt to stand.

 _No, no._ There was _no way_ that such a respected medical fellow would traverse half the galaxy on her own accord to perform surgery-one that would be punishable by death if discovered by the empire-unless she knew exactly who would be on her table and what was in it for her. If money had been the cause of her decision, it would surely explain her speedy exit. But there was no way Saneetra didn't recognize him after all the times they'd crossed paths in his youth. _Speaking of which-_

"I thought she was dead," he marveled, for Depa's story had been drilled into his head from the very start of his training. It always began with a ship departing Chalacta in search of a new life and ended on Coruscant. In his late teens, bolstered by alcohol-fueled reminiscence, Kanan had returned to the Billaba family compound only to discover it had been gutted out by fire years prior. According to local authorities, four bodies had been recovered from the rubble, assumed to belong to her sister's surviving family. As they were all burned beyond recognition and in that time the planet was in the midst of a catastrophic cycle of plague, the corpses had been thrown in a mass grave and forgotten. Some irrational part of his mind had hoped that his childhood playmate would still be there, the only being in the galaxy prepared to welcome him with open arms. This had proved to be a foolish notion.

 _Had she been force-sensitive?_ Perhaps, but after her mother Sar Labooda had been killed, her training was out of the question. For the three years between this and the singular most tragic day of his life, Caleb and Saneetra had walked together in the timeless journey of adolescence. Once, after explaining to her that they would soon depart on a harrowing mission, one that he melodramatically emphasized he might not return from, she'd treated him to a kiss. Initially he'd been enthralled at this important first in his life, only to be consumed by guilt and confess his indiscretion to his master a short time later. Shaking her head and trying to rein in her amusement, Depa had admonished him that there was no need to make such a big fuss over a supply run.

That was the last time he'd seen Saneetra face to face. The next year, she was all but forgotten as he was encouraged to run, _go now, I'll be right behind you_.

A tiny line of concern had formed in Hera's forehead, as he hadn't so much as mentioned this woman before. However, if it was important to him, the same went for her, and she went in search of the mysterious stranger.

The guards posted at the end of the hall had seen her pass by in a tremendous hurry. The Phoenix Squadron medic who had assisted her reported that the doctor had even left her tools behind in her rush to make it to the docking chamber. Sure enough, a quick jaunt to the airlock confirmed that her transport had already departed. It was all somewhat curious and very suspicious, she'd explained as Kanan got dressed.

He wanted to believe that Saneetra was simply wanting to return to Coruscant as soon as possible so as not to arouse suspicion, that she only wanted to be here to help out an old friend, but experience told him otherwise. However, seeing as her motives escaped him and they weren't in immediate danger, he pushed these doubts aside.

"Is everything back to normal?" Kanan asked as he struggled into his shirt. Everything in his line of vision seemed hyper-focused, and the learning curve for depth perception was a steep one. He'd never had sight this clear, even before the incident on Malachor.

The pilot chuckled at that; he was temporarily spellbound by the sight of her lips parting and her hand being pressed to them, the motion of her head causing her lekku to sway from side to side. Every detail, every single gesture, was to be studied and not forgotten. "Has it ever been?"

As they made their way into the corridor, Kanan briefly expressed concern that he shouldn't be exposed to bright lights. But a quick glance into the reflective paneling on the wall confirmed his suspicions: the implants were in transition, making his pupils appear much larger than anyone's had the right to be. Staring down the man looking back at him in the mirror, he willed himself to believe that he wasn't any different, just a better version of himself.

The journey back to the _Phantom_ was a difficult one, for with every step Kanan had to resist the urge to put his hands out in front of him, or else pause to scrutinize every chrome accent. After so long in the dark, it was enthralling to return to the light.

Sabine met them at the open docking hatch. It had been a long time since the jedi had seen her in civilian clothes, let alone with a smile on her face. She immediately ran to him and wrapped her arms around his midsection, burying her face into his shirt.

"Hey, Sabine!" He exclaimed, rubbing small circles into her back right about her brace. It was a stark reminder of what had taken place in his absence. Truthfully, per Hera's retelling of last night's events, Ezra's breakdown had been unexpected, but not shocking. He was protective of the girl, as any leader would be, and thus felt a twinge of righteous anger that he'd forsaken his training after the bare minimum of persuasion. Yet after he'd had plenty of time to reflect, Kanan realized that most of his irritation stemmed at his own perceived inability to teach and nurture. As soon as they landed and got comfortable, they were going to have to come to an understanding. "Whatever happened to the bed rest that the medic suggested?"

The Mandalorian responded by rolling her eyes and retreating into the shuttle, her posture ramrod straight and walk unnaturally stiff.

"She couldn't wait. Neither of us could," Hera said sheepishly, fending off his admonishing glare. "Zeb already has the _sabacc_ cards laid out, and Ahsoka took the liberty of tidying up our room. It's odd, I never took her for a domestic."

The slight sour tone to her voice was not missed by Sabine, who graciously vacated the copilot's chair. As she drew herself up to full height he couldn't help but make light of a tense situation.

"I believe you've grown several inches since the last time I checked," he proclaimed, touching his breastbone at the approximate height of the top of her head.

From behind them, the trio could hear the engine sputter, then roar to life. The hatch closed, and then their pilot was easing them out into open space, taking great care to ensure a smooth ride. Nevertheless, Sabine, who had heard this declaration at least once a month over the past year, wasn't having any of it. "It's just your imagination," she grunted, sitting down rather precariously in the passenger seat and propping her feet up.

Hera pulled the _Phantom_ to port, and there was the massive sphere of Atollon, in all of its ( _lack of_ ) glory. He hadn't been so glad to see that barren dust pile since they'd initially touched down to establish the base. Whistling under his breath, he replied, "No, I'm pretty sure this time. By this time next year, you'll be towering over me."

"Shut up, dad," she blurted out absently. In the reflection of the view screen, Kanan can see her cheeks redden. The next moment she's turning to the access panel on the wall, desperately trying to hide the embarrassment written all over her face.

The other two exchange a small smile before casting their eyes forward. As their temporary home draws closer and closer, Kanan can't help but be grateful for their own peculiar brand of normal.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Wow, this chapter really got ahead of me! I sat on this for a day or so to make sure the dialogue was as tight as possible. To everyone, thanks for your continued support.

Next time: The Billaba family story, through Kanan's eyes. Yes, for real this time.

 **Into the Endless Night**

 **Part Six**

"Did you happen to see a Chalactan woman near the ports?" Hera asked as she engaged the landing protocol. Most of the ride had been spent in companionable silence, but seeing as they could make out several people standing far below, that was about to change.

Sabine thought about this. "Yeah. She left right before you two got back. What about her?"

For a moment Kanan considered telling her outright that an old friend had come back into his life, that _no_ , he didn't know what to make of it, or if she would ever return to have a long overdue conversation. But he settled on the bare minimum of information: "That was my surgeon."

The girl nodded, both of her eyebrows raised into her hairline. Clearly there was more to the story, but if she'd learned anything from Hera's secretive nature, it was that it would come out in due time. Rising to her feet, she took a good look at the gathering crowd on the ground. "Ezra's there," she said quietly, her expression a sea of confliction.

Chopper was the first to approach, rumbling over the uneven ground to deliver his complaints about being left behind. He was greeted with a fond pat to the strut.

Their resident Lasat pushed past the warbling droid, drawing his friend into a rough embrace that quickly turned into a headlock. Kanan laughed and pulled away, socking him in the shoulder. "So that's the welcome I get from you?" He teased good-naturedly, to an exaggerated shrug.

Ahsoka stood somewhat removed from the group, leaning into the side of another transport for support. He was immediately taken aback by the extent of her injuries, which had certainly been glossed over in conversation; even beneath the brace, he could tell her leg had been woefully mangled in combat, and a great deal of the fingers on her right hand had been sliced off, hidden presently by gauze. Of course there was also the fact that part of one of her towering montrals was missing, giving his companion somewhat of a lopsided appearance. But she still perked up whenever his gaze strayed over to her, treating him to one of her rare toothy grins.

"You're a sight for _sore eyes_ ," she said wryly, returning his ever-so-careful hug.

He snorted indignantly, although his amused expression told her otherwise. "Don't patronize me."

From behind him came the sound of Hera clearing her throat. He looked up just in time to see his apprentice turn and begin to walk towards the main compound, without having said a word to anyone.

"Ezra!" He called out, and broke into a jog before seeing the ground shift underneath him and deciding that that definitely was _not_ a good idea. To his credit, the young man ceased to move altogether.

The jedi wasn't sure exactly where to proceed once they were mere feet apart. He wanted to embrace his son, to tell him everything was alright and would only get better, but no one was sure that was the truth. So he settled on setting a hand on his shoulder, causing the boy to flinch as if he'd expected him to strike.

"We've got to talk," he insisted in a manner that suggested the inevitable _would_ come to pass, whether he wanted it to or not.

After a few seconds, Ezra nodded and proceeded into the building, never once turning to look his master in the eye.

-0-

Ducking his head out of the fresher, the padawan double and triple checked to make sure the coast was clear. Noting that the main corridor of the _Ghost_ was graciously empty, he stepped out, the only sound in the immediate vicinity his bare feet on the deck plating.

He didn't notice before it was too late that the hatch to Sabine's door was propped open. She sat with her back to him, her armor scattered in pieces about the room. During the first few months of their time together, it became apparent to him that she took excessive care to keep the components in top condition, polishing them at the bare minimum of twice weekly. He supposed she still did that, even if he no longer sat with her to keep good company. Slowing his gait dramatically, Ezra reached for the keypad on the wall, hoping to enter his code without being noticed.

Before his fingers even touched the keys, she called over her shoulder, "Shouldn't you be training?"

"Not you too," he muttered under his breath, remembering how he'd abandoned his post in the common room due to the pointed glances Hera pinned him under every time she passed through.

It was the smell of caf that had woken him up that morning, the particularly strong Spiran blend that the adults preferred. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he propped himself up on his elbows and was treated to the sight of Hera and Ahsoka sitting together at the foot of his bunk, their lekku touching with proximity. Several empty cups were scattered around them, and they were in that moment dead to the world.

Immediately the past twelve hours came rushing back. He remembered warring with his conscience for a while before opening the holocron, for it seemed that it was _calling_ to him. From there on his memories were cloudy, almost as if he hadn't been in control of his own body. Ezra can recall keenly an urgency to get to the _Phantom_ , the sensation of a Mandalorian sitting on his chest, and the sight of her leaning against the wall, bleeding from the mouth. Then Hera was talking him down from the mania, reassuring him over and over again that _everything's alright, I'm here now, they can't get to you as long as I'm here_.

Everyone on the crew knew exactly who _they_ referred to.

The women awoke to an empty room, their dishes having been swept away, covered with a blanket that they were sure hadn't been there before. And because Kanan would soon be home, they decided not to mention it whenever they passed each other in the corridor. Nevertheless, Ezra could feel their disdain from a mile away. Their _pity_.

He didn't want any of that. As far as he was concerned, everything that had happened in the past four months was his fault. It was his fault that their family was fractured, unable to communicate. It was his fault that Kanan and Ahsoka almost died, and it was his fault that they were hunkered down underground waiting for something to give. The guilt was eating him alive.

"I'm sorry for caring," she replied sharply, struggling to stand. The outline of the brace is clearly distinguishable over the regular curve of her waist, and his own chest begins to tighten.

Without a second thought, he stepped over the threshold and shut the door behind him. "Sabine, I already said _I'm sorry_. What more do you want?"

His words tumble out with undue acerbity, and her will to converse civilly is all but destroyed. "In case you haven't noticed, I've got two broken ribs because of you. If you're willing to do this to someone close to you, I have no doubt that you could _kill_ if whatever sith magic wriggling around in your brain demands it." She gestured towards his forehead, and then to herself. "How much longer is it going to be before you lose it entirely?"

The way Sabine described it, he was a man possessed. He simply didn't know how to explain to her that in the heat of the moment the feral part of his mind had taken over, but at the same time he had been fully in control. He'd been meditating with the assistance of the holocron and there had been that woman's voice, bewitching him with her words, encouraging him to get drunk on the potential of his own power. Even now, the holocron's essence still throbbed away in some musty corner of his consciousness, but it was far less pronounced. The fog had been lifted, and Ezra was privately glad that Hera had taken matters into her own hands.

 _If only apologizing wasn't so difficult._

"I'm not going to lose it," he asserted, coming to within a few paces of her.

Eyebrows arched and pose confrontational, Sabine wasn't planning on backing down. "You know I just want my friend back!"

 _So she had said._ "You have him, he's right here!"

The girl scoffed and turned away. "Don't lie to me, Ezra Bridger. After all this time, I can see right through you. And I promise, I don't believe you."

Unbidden rage clenching his throat, he seized her arm and pulled back roughly. If they were going to settle this, they were absolutely going to face each other and converse like logical beings.

So strained was her forced smile that he scarcely noticed the treacherous glint in her eye. Not even bothering to tug away, Sabine leaned into him until their foreheads were almost touching. "What are you gonna do, _hit me_?"

Her voice was an octave lower than it usually was, and so dredged with righteous anger that he didn't dare respond. And then: "If you really want to, go ahead. Show me how much the dark side pulls at you, just like they say. _Show me how you can't resist it_."

After a few seconds' standoff, Ezra finally released her. The warrior nodded slowly, her grin disappearing behind a wall of emotion that she made no attempt to hide.

The guilt instantly returned in full force; he was prepared to beg, plead, and grovel for her forgiveness. Her name escaped his lips. Gingerly, she sat on the edge of her bunk and delivered her one-word riposte: "Leave."

"What?"

"I'm sorry, that's a Mandalorian expression. It means _get out_."

-0-

Ezra found his master just outside the compound in the rapidly dwindling twilight, performing what seemed to be form exercises with his eyes closed. Sure enough, as he approached, he could hear the steady thrum of him counting under his breath.

"You know you have eyes again, right?" He'd planned on initiating this encounter with the apology that had escaped him in conversation with Sabine, but as usual, it came out as a jest.

The motion of his light saber immediately ceased, held aloft in flawless recreation of the Form III starting position. "I don't need them," Kanan answered nonchalantly, and delivered several more strokes into the air.

Some distance off, the boy sat down and watched as the older man reestablished his ease with the weapon. In the early months of their partnership, he'd often done this at his master's behest, for he claimed that observance was the fastest route to imitation. All Ezra could remember was being impatient to get his hands on the real thing, but now he was content only to inspect.

After some time the jedi realized that the young man was crying, tears streaming quietly down his face. The air fairly vibrated with tension between them, so he sheathed his saber and joined him on the ground.

"Are you ready to talk about it?" He asked, knowing that he had to tread carefully.

Ezra was in no hurry to mention his argument that had just taken place. "All we've done for the past few months is talk."

"So be it," he answered simply, and together they stood. The saber changed hands, and the boy did not hesitate to activate it. This moment, with the force pulsating and coursing between his fingers, felt _right_. "Show me the six modes of Form IV deflection."

It was a beginner's task, but Ezra complied, locking his blade against an unseen adversary. The cycle continued for several minutes, until sweat began to gather at the nape of his neck from exertion. Kanan slowly traced a circle around him with his feet, interrupting every so often to correct his posture. When at last the routine shifted to close-quarter offensive techniques, he confessed, "All I want is to do good by you."

"And you do," he reacted forthwith, much to his astonishment.

Ezra swallowed at the lump in his throat, not fighting the emotion nipping at the fringes of his control. "I made some big mistakes," he acknowledged.

The suns were now completely set; the only illumination for miles remained the beacons affixed to the roof of the compound, and less noticeably, the glow of a saber as it cut through the air. Kanan rubbed at his temples, for the sharp contrast of light was causing his cybernetics to strain. "You did. Wrists straight."

His clinical response did not deter the young man, who was beginning to express his thoughts. "I've got to live with that now." The necessary corrections were made and the cycle began again.

"You've struggled with temptation from the dark side," Kanan confirmed. "As did my master,- _elbows out_ -Ahsoka, and myself."

Obviously, there was an important distinction therein; all of them had managed to move on, and he had not. His thumb fell from the activation position and the saber clattered to the ground. For the first time in a matter of months, master and padawan embraced. Neither wept, instead opting to revel in the strength shared between them through the force.

"I'm sorry," Ezra mumbled into his shirt, and meant every word of it.

And so several cathartic moments were passed in this way. "Me too," Kanan finally responded. " _But_ -"

"But what?" He cut in, anxiety rising within.

"You _have_ to square your shoulders going into those lunges."

His eyes widened, and then-a very rare occurrence as of recently-he laughed.

Neither were sure for how much longer they remained outside before Hera appeared. But she soon did, hands wrung together in concern. And when she opened her mouth, it was to deliver the news that would shatter their fragile semblance of resolution.

"Dr. Billaba's ship was attacked. She's been captured."


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Thanks for all the reviews and well wishes! Whenever I'm picturing Saneetra, I'm seeing actress Rashida Jones. I think that will help everyone visualize her.

Next time: A dash of Kanan and Ezra fluff for my long-suffering readers. Also, an overdue reunion.

 **Into the Endless Night**

 **Part Seven**

"The plan was the transport her as far as Sullust, where she would board a civilian transport and proceed to Coruscant," Hera explained, pointing to the pertinent locations on the holomap. "When neither members of the crew checked in with _Phoenix Home_ on the hour, the alarm was sounded and Sato's ship went to general quarters. Considering we don't know what happened, I suggest that we do the same."

When Captain Syndulla spoke, it was unwise to question her orders. The non-essential personnel that remained in their makeshift situation room ducked their heads and headed towards the door to make preparations.

The view screen suddenly shifted to the angled view indicative of a security camera. Sabine leaned against the open port hatch just as they had found her before, examining her fingernails for dirt. Two contracted _Phoenix_ pilots, who appeared more than happy to step off the frigate for a while, passed by and treated her to a cursory nod. Her lips moved in the shadow of a bid for _good luck_. One of them elbowed the other and laughed before continuing on their way.

Hera stopped the recording, turning to the girl in question, who was currently standing as far away from Ezra as possible. "What did he say?"

" _We won't need it,_ " she muttered solemnly, realizing how wrong they had been.

The togruta crossed the room and placed a hand on her opposite shoulder, offering companionable support as the tape was resumed. Whatever they were about to see could determine their course of action.

Several moments later a woman rounded the corner from the direction of the surgical ward, shedding her voluminous cloak to reveal a form-fitting brown jumpsuit underneath. She carried a starched white overcoat over one arm, and her hair was plaited into two braids that were gathered in teardrop shapes at the nape of her neck. When she turned in profile to Sabine, waggling her fingers in greeting as she went, Kanan's heart skipped a beat.

"That's her," she confirmed at the newly frozen image, remembering the woman's pert nose and warm hazel eyes. Sabine thought she'd looked friendly.

Rex squinted at the woman's form; he may have been getting up there in age, but his eyesight hadn't failed him yet. Indicating a cylindrical strip of metal barely jutting out over her waistband, he said, "What's this, then?"

The jedi sighed and sank heavily into the nearest chair. He'd always had his suspicions, and there they were, clearly visible to the casual viewer. But just to make sure, he called out, "Rewind it back, Hera."

And so she did. The new angle of the Chalactan entering the corridor afforded them a view of her somewhat bulky-looking saber. Sputtering, Sabine exclaimed, "I don't remember seeing that. You've got to believe me!"

Upon closer examination, the gesture she made wasn't a greeting, but a vague sideswipe with the first three fingers of her left hand. The force-sensitives in the room recognized it instantly.

The doctor entered the port just upstream from them, and that was all she wrote. Hand coming down on the access panel to stop the recording once and for all, Hera turned to face her lover. "Kanan, is there something you want to tell us?"

He shook his head and then lifted it, eyes traveling among the assembled members of his crew. Ezra stood so close that they were nearly bumping elbows, while Rex and Zeb stood behind Ahsoka like her shadow. The only one looking directly at him was their pilot, arms crossed and foot tapping onto the deck.

"I know this woman," he began carefully. "We played together as children, but there was no indication...I had _no idea_ …"

"Start at the beginning," Sabine insisted, for she knew his ways of not addressing the bantha in the room.

To do that, he would have to go before his own lifetime, to the place where it all began. "My master, Depa, left Chalacta at the age of nine with her family. There was a famine in that time; coupled with a plague, many lives were lost. Halfway to their safe haven, however, their ship was attacked by pirates and her parents were killed. Fortunately, Master Windu was there to rescue them."

Ezra perked up, for he'd studied the recordings of Mace in his own master's holocron. In his mind, there was no greater master of acrobatics in combat.

"He recognized Depa and her sister as force sensitive, and brought them to the temple on Coruscant," Kanan resolved, remembering the woman in question who had a tendency to entertain the younglings in their precious down time. And she'd had the most magnificent stories; he recalled sitting at her feet, eyes fixed at the Greater and Lesser Marks of Illumination on the bridge of her nose. She had just returned from a time at the Chalactan Adepts, wherein the initiates were instructed in the natural way of the universe. The impressionable boy had wanted nothing more than to be just like her.

"Sar Labooda," Rex interrupted, for he retained the sight of every trooper's head turning as the beautiful woman passed. "I remember her. She was very... _wise_."

The clone's poorly timed comment notwithstanding, Kanan had to agree. "Now Sar was not a traditional jedi. Upon returning to her world, she took a husband and had a child."

He went on to explain that Saneetra had remained on Chalacta with her father, for in that time personal attachment was frowned upon by the Order. Sar was a spiritual woman who wanted her share her lust for life with others. She thought and loved very deeply,

Besides, someone needed to fill the Billaba home to keep it from being taken over by scavengers.

Someone had to put on a brave face for the community, even as people were starving and living in the streets. And so the two of them had lived for quite some time, eventually being joined by some far-flung distant relatives seeking shelter from extenuating circumstances.

But then tragedy had struck on Geonosis, and word reached the family that she would not be returning home. If the father hadn't already been set on holding his daughter back from her jedi training, his mind was absolutely decided. He would go to his grave believing that they didn't need contact or support from the people who had lead his wife to her untimely death. Their visits to Chalacta all but ceased, for Depa could no longer come up with a convenient reason to go out of their way that would sit well with the higher-ups. After that, Kanan couldn't bring himself to contact his friend, for he was not well-versed in the ways of grief.

That had all changed when his master died in battle that next year. It was the beginning of a very long and very excruciating downward spiral that thankfully ended in resolution. He had a significant other now, a family and a purpose. He couldn't ask for anything better.

Truthfully, he hadn't thought of Saneetra for quite some time, right up until Hera's mention of her in the recovery room. He supposed that was what had triggered his vision of Depa, for even in her youth the girl had bore remarkable resemblance to her aunt.

As for the _other_ part of that dream...he didn't want to dwell on it.

"We are fortunate that our contacts on Sullust found the transport before the Empire did," Hera said once he was finished, breaking the spell of decorous silence the room was under. "Both pilots were found in their seats, having been shot by a blaster execution style. A Chalactan biosign was picked up shortly thereafter aboard an imperial cruiser in geostationary orbit around the planet."

"Well, why didn't the Sullustans go after her?" Ezra asked, somewhat naively.

On the opposite side of the table, Sabine rolled her eyes. "Have you ever _seen_ one?"

This was a valid point, for the floppy jowled, big eyed creatures grew no taller than five feet and surely wouldn't stand up in a firefight for all of their technological brilliance. In the minds of the stormtroopers, they were just as useless as the ewoks, and just as expendable. There was a sizeable rebel cell there, but not a jedi left among them due to their continual abuse.

Hera cut a withering glance between them, silently demanding that their arguing cease before it could begin. She had no time for their childish squabbles while someone's life was on the line. "Dr. Billaba is a respected physician with years of loyal experience behind her. The ship was unmarked and all our communication frequencies were disguised. It makes no sense."

That was what she _said_ , but not what she _meant_. If there were more inquisitors on board-or even Darth Vader himself-Saneetra's force signature would be blaring like a siren to them. But seeing as their orders were to proceed to port at maximum speed, she couldn't understand what could have gone wrong.

"They knew," Zeb marveled under his breath, "How did they know?"

There were many answers to this inquiry. Perhaps Saneetra hadn't been as careful as she ought to have been when squaring away her affairs for the week she was away. The favors they'd cashed in might not have been as airtight as they thought. Or maybe there was a traitor in their midst. It wouldn't be the first time.

"Whatever the case may be, we must return her selfless act of kindness," Ahsoka determined, crossing her arms as if she was daring anyone to disagree. Through the transparency of the holoscreen, she made eye contact with Kanan and together they nodded. There was no doubt they both felt her presence through the force, thrumming with incredible intensity.

 _As if she wanted them to find her._

"It will be a fairly simple operation. Nothing we haven't done before." A schematic of a cruiser in the same class as the one currently over Sullust was summoned from the archives. "We'll capture this external docking hatch and hold off the entire corridor. I think we can all agree that it will be easier than seizing an entire hangar."

They had done that more than once, to varying degrees of success. But because most of their usual roster was wounded in one way or another, Hera made the executive decision to avoid their usual theatrics. There were a great deal of questions still unanswered ( _Who trained this woman? What actually happened during the fire that destroyed the Billaba family home?_ ) and she didn't feel like sticking her neck out for the Chalactan just yet, no matter what kind of glowing character reference she received from Kanan.

Sabine stood and rubbed her hands together, excited about being able to break out her collection of explosives for the first time in almost six months. "Alright, I'll suit up. Do we want _bang-bang_ or _boom-crash_?"

"You aren't going anywhere, young lady," Hera proclaimed before her lover could. "You're going to stay here and manage ops with Ahsoka."

If the togruta objected to being left behind on this mission, she didn't show it. They were both as of yet unsteady on their feet, but their participation was critical to the entire operation. "She's right, Sabine. We'll maintain the base and keep an eye on the radar frequencies. Besides, we're not exactly looking to make a grand entrance."

While Rex, Zeb, and Hera haggled over the small details, Ezra looked to his master, chin upturned and expression hopeful. And although there was still part of him warning to avoid bringing the influenceable young man into trouble, he whispered, "Go and get your blaster."

While the apprentice scrambled out of the room, nearly tripping over his own feet in the rush to get to his bunk, Kanan said to the others with an air of finality: "We leave on the hour."

The room quickly vacated; even Hera left to warm up the _Ghost_ , shaking the figurative cobwebs off their ship after months of dormancy. Only Sabine was left to see Ahsoka impart the kyber crystal to her companion with an open hand.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: In advance, I should say that I'm sorry for what I'm about to inflict on all of you. Even I have to admit the cliffhanger at the end of this chapter is downright evil.

I've decided there will be ten chapters, so this story should be finished by next weekend!

Next time: The light saber battle to end all light saber battles (or at least the ones I've written). An explanation, and a chance for redemption for Ezra.

 **Into the Endless Night**

 **Part Eight**

Ezra initially fled the cockpit when the adults brought out the images salvaged from the scene of the abduction. They were trying to glean as much information as possible from the pictures, which were undeniably gruesome. Each of the pilots have been bored through the back of the head with the discharge of a blaster of some kind, hunched over in pools of their own blood. Saneetra's room was relatively undisturbed, save for two long streaks of blood that ended in the sprawl of two palms. The hand prints continued down the hall and to the docking hatch, as if she had struggled before eventually giving in to her captors. Or perhaps they weren't hers, someone suggested, as any force-sensitive should have readily been able to defend themselves.

His feet took him to the common area, where he could still hear the conversation in the next room. The topic had shifted to memories of the doctor, hoping to uncover something that would shed light on the Empire's sudden interest in her. Suddenly he heard his adopted mother's voice, confirming something she'd just heard- _"You've kissed this woman?"_ -and the subsequent response, sharp in its insistence-" _We were thirteen, Hera!"_

Whatever misstep he'd committed obviously wasn't _that_ severe, because it was accompanied by Zeb's raucous laughter. This was their way, to make merry before getting serious at the right moment. This return to normal was comforting.

Kanan joined him at the table shortly thereafter, offering him a tentative smile. To his relief, his apprentice returned it, and the two settled into a companionable silence.

At last, the young man broke it, asking, "Do you trust me?"

That certainly was a loaded question. If he immediately answered _yes_ , that would suggest that he'd forgotten everything that happened on Malachor, which he most certainly had not. But a _no_ would fracture the fragile understanding they now had. But because jedi often dealt in absolutes, he settled on what he believed. "Completely."

Sighing deeply, Ezra scooted about a foot closer to him on the bench and slumped down, the top of his head even with Kanan's shoulder. It was as close as they ever got to cuddling in the way children often sought, save for after that chance encounter with Prisoner X-10 on Lothal…

"Whatever happens out there, I need you to not let your anger control you," he requested, gaze fixed on the opposite wall.

He nodded slowly, for he'd seen what came of unbridled rage when unleashed. But his master wasn't done: "I need to know that you're going to keep it together, and come back to all of us the same way you left. I remember how it is, to be entrusted with power at a young age and not know how to handle it. However, this only means you must be more vigilant."

Ezra exhaled carefully. "I promise, Kanan."

"Ahsoka and I discussed this," he began slowly, and this is true, but not in so many words. "We believe you're ready."

Part of him never wanted to make that statement and keep the boy safe from harm, but his hopeful nature and willingness to help was rolling off of him in waves. It hadn't been this potent since the start of their training. Carefully, Kanan reached into the pocket of his trousers and pulled out the kyber crystal.

Eyes wide, Ezra looked between him and the offering, hands clenched together in his lap. The need to redeem himself was all consuming. He had to pull through this mission for himself, for his master, and for everyone else on the crew. They were all counting on him. After a moment of stunned silence, wherein the crystal changed hands, he surged forward, wrapping his arms around Kanan's midsection and squeezing hard.

"Thank you, thank you, _thank you_! You won't regret it, I promise!" And then he was scrambling out of the booth, fumbling with the blaster holstered on his waist. Seconds later the necessary modifications had been made and the saber was activated. The pure joy in Ezra's expression was infectious as he beheld the familiar glow of his blade, enraptured by the sight.

-0-

"No smoke and mirrors this time?" Kanan inquired for the third time since they'd departed Atollon. Everyone was beginning to think he was disappointed with this decision, but didn't want to bring it up in front of the Captain.

Hera whistled under her breath as she beheld the stars streaking by. They were no more than a few minutes from Sullust at their current speed. "No, but we'll be coming in hot."

Seeing as the two other men in the cockpit were currently distracted, he found it appropriate to lean into her side and murmur: "Just like whenever you enter the room."

Something lecherous stirs within her belly, but she pushes it aside and socks him in the shoulder. "Watch the controls while I make sure the arms closet is stocked," she ordered, and he would never dream of questioning her. Once in her vacated seat, Kanan relished the sight of the retreating twi'lek in the reflection of her view screen, her walk tainted with the intentional sway of her hips.

The jedi felt unexpectedly giddy going into this firefight; once he reached out to Saneetra, she'd reacted with excitement, telling him exactly where she was in the prison block and plying him with pleasant childhood memories. Laughing over holonet videos, snooping around in the shops in town, tearing through the house while his master and her mother conversed at the table. As long and hard as he'd fought to suppress recollection of anything that happened before the age of eighteen, he had to admit there were a few shining moments breaking through the dark.

She returned soon enough, and he stood to allow her to take her rightful place at the helm. Zeb and Rex have already retreated to the back of the ship; they'll be tasked with holding off the corridor while the actual rescue was underway. Ezra waited for him near the door, fairly bouncing on his toes with excitement.

Just before they drop out of hyperspace, Kanan took Hera's face into his hands and kissed her deeply. She responded readily, and when they separate, she whispered, "Be careful, love."

She knows he always tries to do just that-whether he's ever actually _successful_ is debatable. His apprentice's disgusted face is barely visible over her shoulder, and he can't help but smile.

"Keep the ship running," he called over his shoulder as he left the cockpit.

The two proceed in silence to where the other members of the boarding party are waiting. There's the bare minimum of warning before the _Ghost_ slams on the figurative brakes, sending them stumbling forward. They're still traveling with incredible speed during their descent, and that's when Rex chose to express his concerns for moving forward: "I have a feeling this is a trap."

"It usually is," Zeb assured him with a chuckle, for he'd gotten used to being ready for anything.

Several minutes later the ship all but crashes into port, leaving a sizeable dent in the blast doors. From the other side of the wall, an alarm sounds.

"Get ready," Hera's voice comes over the intercom, steeled with resolve. And then the hatch slides open, and they are on their own.

-0-

At first, it's business as usual. Kanan and Ezra break out into a dead sprint immediately, breaking through the ranks of troopers sent to investigate the impact. Their response is unusually fast, but neither give it much thought as they surge forward, parrying blaster fire with their sabers. And that's when he hears it.

 _What is it that you seek?_

No, this couldn't be happening, _not now._ The voice from the sith temple has returned, stronger that ever. It echoes in his skull with incredible volume, so much so that he glances up at his master to confirm that he didn't hear it as well.

 _Did you really think you could find it here?_

They approach a fork in the corridor. Kanan turns left, while his companion feels the undeniable urge to go the opposite direction.

"Detainment sector is this way," the jedi asserts, and he's absolutely sure of it. Saneetra's presence surrounds him, drowning out the sensation of adrenaline pumping through his veins.

Ezra pauses momentarily, for everything within is pulling him in the other direction. He can't tell _who_ or _what_ it is, only that it requires his attention immediately. "I'll meet you there," he blurts out, only just catching his master's stricken expression as he dashes away.

His gut suddenly churning with dread, Kanan turns into an empty corridor. Slanted hatches cover both walls, which are strangely unguarded. But he didn't have time to give it much thought.

Driving his saber into the access panel, he forces the door open. Saneetra sat in profile, surprisingly with no visible wounds, her eyes downcast. Upon first glance, she looked for all the world like Depa in meditation. A pang of grief stabs at his chest, but he quickly brushes it away. She's undeniably beautiful, with luminous eyes and bronzed skin. When she turns to him, her lips parting in a comely grin, he catches a glimpse of the Lesser Mark of Illumination set into the bridge of her nose.

"Caleb!" She exclaims and runs to embrace him, her voluminous cloak billowing behind her. Instinctively, he flinches at the mention of _that name_ , but secretly relishes in the contact. Her small, sure hands reach behind to clasp his shoulders-she was probably a full head shorter than Sabine, and just as thin. "Thank the heavens you've come. I wasn't sure you could get past the troopers' barricade."

 _And just how had she known there had been one?_ He breaks off their embrace and gestures to the golden bead, saying, "This is new."

She titters nervously, and for a split second he can see her as the young woman whose waking moments were mostly consumed by thoughts of her starving people and withering planet. Then again, a lot of things had changed; in her short lifetime, Saneetra had already found time to attend medical school, study at the Chalactan Adepts like her mother and aunt... _and train as a jedi_?

"I suppose it'll be Kanan now?" She inquired, the ends of her words lilting in a familiar accent. At his nod, she continued: "I know there is a great deal we must discuss, but now is the time to escape this trap the Empire has set for me. But first, we must attend to your apprentice Bridger, yes?"

Saneetra steps to one side, prepared to go around him, and finds that her old friend has done the same. Her handiwork, the black and silver cybernetics, bear down on her with remarkable intensity. A little line of concern has worked its way into his forehead. "How did you know that I've taken on an apprentice?"

The sound of trooper's boots approaching reaches them from down the corridor, but there was no denying the fact that she couldn't have possibly known about Ezra. She'd been drawn halfway across the galaxy by the barest mention of a name and nothing else, but even the most common of imperial bulletins never mentioned their working relationship. It simply didn't add up.

The Chalactan woman sighed, as if she'd suddenly taken a weight off her shoulders. Drawing herself up to full height, she reached for the light saber in her waistband. Carven with runes in her native language and bearing deep rivets from plasma burns, it was clearly from a different time.

"Oh, Caleb. I wish you hadn't said that," she muttered, and he soon understood why the weapon had looked so bulky on the security cameras. It sported two attachments on its periphery, and as he watched, two hemispherical metal pieces emerged and connected to one another.

There was little time to think before she charged, the spinning circle of red light unmistakeable.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Holy mother of plot twist! I feel like mentioning that each entry has a little working title so I know exactly what takes place in it...this one was simply called "Big Fight"!

The last chapter will take a few days. I want to make it perfect, because you all deserve it.

 **Into the Endless Night**

 **Part Nine**

As shocked as he was to be attacked by a childhood friend, Kanan did not hesitate to reach for his own weapon and block it, causing the rotation of the blade to come to an abrupt halt. The two each bore down; the golden tones to her eyes were suddenly prominent, giving the Chalactan a menacing appearance. For her small stature, Saneetra was incredibly strong, and the locked sabers inched closer to his own face.

Something about her style of attack clicked in his mind. He wrenched his blade to the right, causing her grip to falter. As she took a step backward to regroup, the jedi activated the switch that would close the doors behind him, effectively trapping him in a room with a woman he'd only recently discovered was a trained assassin.

She stood before him, one hand clasped at the sternum and saber held diagonally aloft behind her. Her feet were placed far apart and she leaned forward slightly, appearing as a jungle cat about to pounce.

"Form VI," Kanan observed, thoughts racing. "Just like your mother."

"How dare you mention her!" Saneetra rasped, of the belief that Sar's memory was hers and hers alone.

His saber came about, pointing at her heart from a distance. "Why? Are you afraid she'd be _disappointed_?" The disgust is his voice was evident.

Even after all these years, he still knew _exactly_ what buttons to push. Saneetra's next charge came with savage intensity. As she turned about him, she repeatedly lunged for the parts of him that weren't covered with armor, ever efficient even if her blade work was sloppy, characteristic of someone who had started their training later in life.

"You don't deserve to wear that Mark," he ground out, remembering how hard his master had striven towards enlightenment in order to earn hers.

The doctor paused momentarily, her breast heaving with exertion. At last she was afforded the opportunity to shed her cloak, revealing that she now sported a black jumpsuit. Kanan couldn't be sure, but he thought it was identical to that of the former Seventh Sister's. "It represents the Seeker, yes? And I am seeking redemption."

The combatants had moved into the center of the room. For her unorthodox technique, Saneetra was indefatigably persistent, and he was beginning to sweat. When he didn't respond, she pressed on: "The Order killed my mother, and with my master's assistance, I am close to retribution."

He didn't see how someone so brilliant could be so _naive_. "You know the jedi didn't kill Labooda; it was the Empire." It was a great deal of _other things_ , including all-consuming lust for power and the barbaric nature of war, but those would have to go unmentioned. The spinning circle of her saber suddenly caught Kanan off guard, causing his own blade to enter the wall above her shoulder. He was lucky it hadn't been wrenched from his hand entirely.

She laughed then, cold and mirthless. "You always believed whatever they told you, Caleb."

"As did you," he pointed out, recalling how desperately the girl wanted to be allowed to train. "I suppose the fire was a diversion for your capture."

For a moment he suspected she didn't remember the night the sith came to Chalacta, but then: "They had to make sure I was ready."

The edge of her weapon came up and dug into his ribs, leaving a shallow cut about the width of his hand. Exhaling raggedly, he retaliated, nicking her cheek. "I suppose your father and the others were collateral damage?"

"Just like the pilots you loaned me," Saneetra confirmed, her teeth bared.

Without warning the comm link strapped to his wrist crackled to life. Ezra's panicked voice surrounding them, filling him with dread. "Specter Six to _Ghost_. I need back up right now!"

There was prescient silence on the other end, and then Hera's voice: "Copy. En route to last reported location."

If there had been any doubt beforehand that they'd been set up, it was gone by now. Saneetra found herself propelled across the room by use of a force push; after a second of gracious reprieve, her former friend rushed towards her, rage barely restrained.

She barely had time to deflect the first blow before she was lifted against the wall, feet barely touching the ground. Kanan came so close to her face that their breath intermingled and hearts beat as one. "Why did you help me?" He demanded.

Her mother's saber had been knocked from her hand in the fray; out of the corner of her eye, she spotted it about a meter away. But her hands stubbornly refused to bend to her mental commands, and she found herself temporarily paralyzed.

"You could have told Vader exactly where our base was. You could have killed me right on that operating table, but you didn't. Why?" The grip on her collar tightened.

An offhanded comment on his poor interrogation skills was imprudent for the time being. Saneetra was loath to admit she didn't know the answer to that. As she understood it, this was all a part of a larger plan, one that was kept hidden from her and the rest of her siblings. And she'd always told herself she didn't _need_ to recognize it, for her primary goal was to destroy everything that reminded her of the past, right down to the man before her. How he looked so much like his former self in these unguarded moments, jaw clenched and eyes wide with knowledge unveiled! "We needed you to come to us," she answered at last, determined not to waver, air barely escaping her throat.

" _Why_?" He all but roared, desperately trying to understand why such an elaborate cover was necessary. Had the other Inquisitors been productive members of society once, before they were burdened with purpose and taught to embrace the darkness within?

Taking advantage of his momentary distraction, Saneetra experimentally flexed the fingers on one hand, drawing them in and causing her saber to activate in midair. Her opponent ducked at the last possible instant and released her, assuming a defensive stance. "You may never know," she said after catching her breath. "Because you, your lover, and your apprentice will die here. And I will personally torture the Lasat and the clone until they yield to our demands."

In the midst of the ensuing spar, Kanan kept his eyes on the guise of his friend, her face contorted with fury. How she'd fallen this far was simply beyond him; while he'd wallowed in self-pity following Depa's death for a time, he eventually made relative peace with it. But there was some small glimmer of benevolence in Saneetra, one that she'd strived for decades to hide, the very same that he sensed despite her act. And because he knew he could stake his fate in that, he turned and ran.

-0-

Ezra followed his gut feeling to the hatch of the docking hangar, breathed deeply, and then burst through the blast doors as if the devil himself was on his trail. He'd expected to see troopers or else guards here, readying themselves to respond to the security breach just above their heads. But the chamber was curiously empty, and he allowed his saber to fall to his side as he surveyed his surroundings.

The faintly discernible sound of breath rasping through a face mask reached his ears just as the man of the hour stepped out from behind a nearby TIE. In one hand Vader held a holocron similar in every way to the one his family had destroyed.

"The Bridger apprentice lives," he noted rhetorically, and the device disappeared into the folds of his cape. Ezra subconsciously reached for it, but pulled back almost immediately. "And it seems that he has not completely bought into the ways of his master."

Teeth gritted, he remembered the stories Ahsoka had relayed to him about the man who had once been behind the armor, and how admirable he'd been before he'd given into his weaknesses. And he knew he could not possibly be afraid of such a person, no matter how purposeful of an existence he lead. "You're wasting your time. I'll never turn to the darkness for as long as I live."

Had he been able to see his face, Ezra was sure he would see incredulity there. He understood that his statement was surprising, considering just a few months ago he was fully willing to let Maul recruit him for the cause. But after being lead through trial and tribulation, he'd emerged victorious, every inch a better person than he'd been before. Even though the voice of the mysterious sith lord still taunted him, he would never yield, for unlike Anakin, he knew a good thing when he had it.

Not caring for conversation at the moment, Ezra assumed starting position, glaring up at his adversary as if to say, _Are you going to fight or not?_

And so the mighty Vader once again charged on an opponent with which he was unevenly matched. The boy almost immediately regretted his decision, for after only a few blows he was on the defensive. A call for help is placed, and he thought he could hear Hera's voice on the other end over the roaring of blood in his ears.

What his opponent had in experience, Ezra had in shrewdness. He evaded a near fatal blow by ducking under the berth of a transport, coming around to take the sith by surprise. But the move was anticipated, and he quickly darted out of the way, free hand rising up to eye level.

From the walkway above comes the sound of a blaster hitting the floor. A second later his mother is lifted off her feet and forced over the barricade with a simple push, held aloft several hundred feet in the air. She was too surprised to even make a sound; the look she exchanged with him is urgent because _yes_ , she knew that a fall from such a height could kill her instantly. Darth Vader studied his reaction, and both were wondering if he would react with anger at the provocation.

At that moment Kanan dashed into view, breathless in his pursuit of Ezra's force signature. The cybernetics with their unnaturally large pupils stray from his apprentice, to Vader, and then to his paramour, whose life hung dangerously in the balance.

With a flick of the wrist Hera was sent flying, screaming shrilly as she went. The floor grew closer and closer to her, and she closed her eyes, welcoming the temporary oblivion. But then it was abruptly as if a great buoyant force had come underneath her, breaking her fall and sending her skidding across the deck.

Ezra is there at once; for a fleeting moment in her disorientation, she thought he was about to jump into her arms. Yet he turned and crouched, lightsaber held before him in an unmistakable display of preservation. Through the vee of his legs, she caught a glimpse of another player entering the fray.

The Chalactan woman briefly attempted to reengage Kanan, but was interrupted by her own master. The jedi found himself all but pushed to one side as Vader surged forward and tucked his blade into the crook of her neck, practically forcing her to her knees.

The window for escape is ever narrowing, and he doesn't waste a moment. Together they help Hera to her feet.

"You have failed me, Ninth Sister," he sneered, saber flickering tantalizingly along her lifeline. "Your personal attachments have rendered you ineffective. What can you say for your cause?"

As the three of them stagger past with what they perceive to be painful slowness, Saneetra caught Kanan's eye in her peripheral vision. If looks could kill, he would be stricken down. But there is something else there...could it be _panic_? _Regret_?

The last thing any of them hear before the door closed is the sickening whirr of a lightsaber, coupled with an agonizing cry that ends in but a whimper.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Here's the last chapter! I want to thank everyone who has written reviews, favorited, or followed. There is a sequel tentatively planned for this summer, but it won't be any earlier than that because I'm at university and final exams are fast approaching. I'm going to write for my home fandom for a while as well, so I make sure that when I come back I've got plenty of fresh ideas.

I never thought when I posted the initial oneshot (it _really_ _was_ supposed to be a one-off Kanera bit) that it would grow into a full story. I couldn't have done it without all of you! Enjoy the gratuitous family fluff and sibling antics, as well as a teaser for what is to come.

Until we meet again, Skye

 **Into the Endless Night**

 **Part Ten**

"We should arrive in three hours' time," Hera said as she swept into their shared quarters, interrupting his reverie.

He sat, somewhat uncomfortably, between the two bunks that had been shoved up next to each other during the moving process. Some months ago, Sabine had put her foot down, insisting that they stop skirting their mutual attraction and start sharing a residence so that Ahsoka could move in next door to her once the base was established. Much to her chagrin, a certain young man had taken over the empty room, most likely to continue his brooding away from Zeb's watchful eye.

Neither of them minded too much, for most nights they wound up spooned against the wall in each other's arms. The juxtaposition of his jedi iconography next to her pilot's gear was a little stilted, but somehow it just felt _natural_. After so many years, they required each other's company like air and water.

Kanan nodded, eyes still shut. Every time he attempted to descend into a deeper level of meditation, Saneetra's face would appear, mouth contorted into a sneer and teeth bared in rage. It was a sight he would carry with him for the rest of his life.

The Captain clearly wasn't entertaining his silence. "Did Ezra come in to speak with you?" She had to ask because the boy could be seen pacing the corridor in front of the hatch for several minutes, working up his nerve to enter. After assuring him that he might as well just _get it over with_ , she'd moved off towards the cockpit, leaving her bewildered son in her wake.

At last his eyes opened and he regarded her with interest. "He did. I told him that he made me proud out there. That he acted very bravely."

To her, that was an understatement. "He saved my life," she insisted, coming to sit at the edge of the bunk. His transformation was incredible in its speed and totality, and therefore deserved the very height of their praise.

"I _may_ have given him an assist on that force push-"

" _Kanan_!" The twi'lek exhaled in frustration, shaking her head, but then noticed he was trying his hardest not to smirk. He soon reached out and placed one hand on either side of her waist, drawing her into the circle of his arms.

To her credit, she didn't struggle, only used her body weight to ease him onto his back. She then curled into his side, her fingers making little circles on his chest. "You know, it's high time I saw the two of you in good spirits."

He made a little sound of agreement under his breath. One of her little aphorisms come to the forefront of his mind, one that he's heard occasionally since Gorse. "It can only get better than here."

"That's right," Hera agreed, and because the autopilot was engaged and no one was sure to miss them for the near future, she allowed her head to drop into the crook of his neck. "Are you feeling alright though, love?"

Exhaling slowly, he considered this. _Was he alright?_ Yes, as much as one could for someone who had just learned that a childhood friend was now a trained assassin hell bent on ending his life. He was fine in spite of the fact that his son had nearly turned against everything they both held dear, and he very nearly spent the rest of his life in total darkness. But all that was in the past now, and all he had to look forward to was a relatively bright future.

"I will be," he answered finally, nuzzling at her cheek.

-0-

"Hey, kid! Settle down," Zeb said, clapping a paw down on the apprentice's shoulder. Ezra was fairly bouncing on his toes as their pilot performed the landing protocol. If he was capable of doing so, Kanan was sure that he would have removed the blast doors with his bare hands.

At last the hatch came open and he staggered down it, leaping the last few feet to solid ground. The welcoming party was considerably smaller, just the two who had stayed behind to manage operations, but they appeared so glad that everyone was back in one piece that the fact could be ignored.

The jedi followed him shortly thereafter. "Any trouble down here?" He asked immediately, wondering if the location of their base had slipped out during Saneetra's final moments.

"Welcome back," Ahsoka grinned. "Not a blip on the radar frequencies for the past twelve hours. It's as if we were alone in the galaxy."

He chuckled then, making some comment about how they'd better _keep it that way_. In due time the trio still aboard the ship joined the fray. Hera and her good friend hugged, and the two women soon moved off to speak together, heads so close that their lekku touched. Ezra, meanwhile, was eyeing someone else with apprehension.

"Well, how did it go?" She inquired finally, starting at his inquisitive gaze.

The boy's lips split in a salacious grin and he surged forward. Before the Mandalorian could react accordingly, she was drawn in and embraced.

The reaction was instantaneous. Tensing up, she eyed the reactions of those around her, who were alternating between holding in their laughter and observing this exchange with astonishment. Eventually, he released her, and she shrieked his name, followed by a supremely indignant, "What was _that_ for?"

But her protests only reached his retreating back as he took off towards the perimeter of the base. Without so much of a hesitation, she dashed after him, hollering thinly veiled threats as she went.

"At least one thing is back to normal," Rex remarked, and lead the procession into the complex.

-0-

Later that night as Sabine prepared for bed, she took extra care to make sure her dressings hadn't come loose from her impromptu run across the broken desert of Atollon. She remained a little winded from the pursuit, which had ended near the beacons just as the sun was beginning to set.

Noting a massive krykna just a stone's throw away, Ezra had skidded to a halt and turned to face her, hands clasped behind his back. At his anachronistically innocent look and her sudden determination to catch him, something struck her as immensely humorous. The two of them collapsed in a fit of giggles, clasping their sides and letting loose all the tension that had been building up between them. Then, after the mood had subsided, they'd hugged again, before walking arm in arm back to the base.

Neither had needed to apologize for the things they'd said; Sabine knew there was no point on opening old wounds.

She'd listened with rapt attention as the group was debriefed on the mission, and simply couldn't believe her ears when Kanan described how the Chalactan had attacked him, the thinnest shell of the woman she once was. When asked about what they intended to do next, no one could give a straight answer, and so the crew had elected to retire for the evening. Everything always seemed clearer after a good sleep.

There was a knock at the door, and she called for her guest to enter. Surprisingly, it wasn't Ezra, but Ahsoka, dressed for bed and carrying a blanket over her arm.

"I assume the two of you made up," she said as they sat facing one another on her bunk, unconsciously mirroring each other's cross-legged stance.

Sabine's radiant smile told her everything she needed to know. Sitting in the situation room with no one to keep them company but their thoughts, the two women had come to an understanding. They both harbored unintentional grudges towards those who had wronged them, and needed to let them go in order to move forward. After all, in the middle of a war as a bad time to distrust one's friends.

She retrieved her comb from the side table and passed it over her shoulder as she turned, coming to face the wall of the bunk. The warrior knew how all hair-especially hers-fascinated her mentor, the orange and purple streaks catching the light as she brushed. It was a comforting gesture she never grew tired of.

Ahsoka clicked her tongue as she gently separated the pieces, slowly liberating them of knots. After a moment spent in contented silence, she remarked, "Sabine, I shall always admire your strength."

Just out of her view, the eyebrows of the girl in question rose into her hairline. W _as the togruta who nearly single-handedly managed the rebel effort in the entire galaxy really complimenting her conviction?_

"I don't know what you mean," she answered, "I reacted with anger when Ezra tried to apologize, and nearly messed up things between us forever."

"But you got him back," Ahsoka replied, "Some may call you headstrong, or callous, but you have something within you that some strive their whole lives to master: a sense of what is right."

Fairly glowing under her praise, Sabine muttered her thanks and closed her eyes, focusing on the peace emanating off her teacher in waves. It never failed to set her at ease.

After an indeterminable amount of time, there came another knock. Without waiting for a response, Hera ducked her head in, three mugs balanced in her hands. And when at last she stepped over the threshold, she deemed it necessary to ask the question to which he knew the answer would be a resounding _yes_ : "Got room for one more?"

-0-

The first thing Saneetra is attune to is this incredible sensation of _cold_ , inside and outside. It is as if she's adrift in her mindspace with no clear purpose or direction. The anguish meets her there, setting her soul alight, and she suddenly awakes with a start to the most tortuous pain she has ever known.

She's slumped against a curved wall with her hands folded across her chest, suggesting that she has been placed just so. Upon turning her head, she's shocked at the intense headache that clusters, resulting in little shocks of vertigo that cloud, for a time, the fact that the ground is moving underneath her.

Staggering to her knees, she soon recognizes her surroundings as the interior of an escape pod. The expanse of open space unfolds before the view screen, and there is not a vessel in sight.

Blood is pooling into her open eye; experimentally prodding at the jagged flesh along the other socket, she is not surprised to find that the other one is completely gone.

 _An eye for an eye, or two human for one Chalactan. Is that the exchange rate these days?_

The irony is simply cruel. Fingers drifting to the other side, Saneetra takes a moment to mutter a few cursory words of gratitude to the powers that be that have not yet forsaken her that her Mark is still intact. As she leans forward, collapsing into the control panel, she feels the familiar prod of the saber in her waistband. So there is that at least.

It takes her some time around the blurred vision, but at last she locates the proper keys. The life support systems seem to cough, and then rumble to life. _Thank the heavens._

There's no first aid kit aboard, or so she soon confirms, and then curses herself for being so naive as to think that there would be. As her target fled the chamber, she can only remember a few phrases that came from the ensuing confrontation... _you should be so lucky to starve...have instructed patrols to shoot upon contact...let every drop of blood act as your atonement…_

Her years of medical training suddenly come to the forefront, and she tears a wide band of cloth from her sleeve, wrapping it diagonally across her face in a desperate attempt to staunch the bleeding. What she wouldn't _give_ for a tourniquet or wound solder right about now!

She remembers the day she was released from her master's tutelage and sent to Coruscant with a singular mission in mind. _Don't return until you've earned your certification. Your clients will trust you more than any civilian in the galaxy. Locate the force sensitive children before they can realize their calling._ Inquisitors from Mirial and Terrelia assumed similar mundane roles all in the hopes of seeing to one of the Empire's most long term goals.

But it hadn't been enough, and they'd all been recalled. Nothing she'd accomplished had _ever_ been enough. It all paled in comparison to Caleb's stories of training, or the suffering of her people, or her mother's legacy. It was enough to drive one mad.

 _What that it?_ Was she slowly losing her mind, consumed by the darkness that continually chipped away at her control? Or was this just the beginning?

Chin quivering, Saneetra sunk into the pilot's chair and leaned back, determined not to weep despite of the emotion building within her. In the reflection of the view screen, she discovers that the right of her face has been mangled beyond recognition. Finally, her jaw drops down and she screams with all of the air in her lungs.

Eventually, right as she starts to lapse out of consciousness, a shadow passes over the escape pod. A tractor beam engages, pulling her into docking position. It's a civilian transport made for at most half a dozen with imperial markings, but she can sense only one. A great calming sensation washes over her, and she stands to greet her host.

The Dathomirian man is hunched over with age and prior injury, his black and red facial markings offset by prominent horns. When he smiles at her, her defenses all but fall. Somehow, she _knows_ she can trust him.

"Welcome, New Seeker. You may call me Old Master."

 **The End**


End file.
